


Night Train

by Poose



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, M/M, Public Sex, Short, Trains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-03 16:24:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1751066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poose/pseuds/Poose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On an overnight Russian train, Charles and Erik struggle to keep quiet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Train

There are four beds in the sleeping compartment of the overnight train to Moscow and the bottom two are currently occupied by Moira and one of her CIA grunts. Erik hasn't bothered to learn his name. They're all interchangeable, humans he values only for their utility, their connections to governments and military that serve to bring him that much closer to Shaw. 

 _Need a clear view of the door_ , the man had said, claiming the bottom bunk while triangulating all the possible angles of entry, and Moira, moments later, performing the same set of counterintelligence arithmetic, seconded the wisdom of this logic. They are both asleep, lulled by the rhythmic rocking of the train, soothing as a womb. Erik does not permit himself the same luxury. Every muscle of his body is tense and ready to spring. The click of a lock outside or the cocking of a gun down the narrow corridor, and he will know it, sense it, feel it, taste it. The merest shift in the pattern of electrons outside the door, he'll know of, preternatural, before it so much as happens. He'll crush the windpipe of any potential assassin with the metal on the door, or in the compartment, cheap and compound. 

Erik's senses take care of all the details. He's not the one who's concerned about them being found out  by waking the two strangers who share their compartment.

 _ <They'll wake up>  _Charles thinks, his mental voice steady though his breath hitches in his throat. 

Erik chooses to speak aloud, into he darkness. "You can stop them," he murmurs, tracing his fingers down the exposed skin of Charles' chest, "from hearing us, if you want to. You could be as loud as you want and then," he moves his hand lower, and Charles shifts, body unsure if it wants to get away or get closer, "make them forget." Charles has such power, he could do anything he wishes. Certainly much more then the parlor tricks back at the dacha. What would a few blank spaces in the memories of a few mere humans matter, when Charles is capable of so much more? 

His body responds, attuned to Erik's touch as a custom instrument. Even in the dark he knows the curves and planes of him, what spot to scrape and which to nuzzle. What to kiss and where to lick. His nipples he pinches. His neck he bites. Beneath him, Charles is radiating heat, enough that he has thrown away the scratchy sheet and kicked it down to the foot of the thin mattress. The motion of the train rubs them together, a gentle sway that masks their movements, conceals them from the sleepers below.

He breathes into Charles' ear, draws his earlobe into his mouth and tugs it between his teeth. His hand difts lower and Charles sends a frantic  _< Erik,_ _that's enough! >_

"You don't want me to stop," he scolds, "and you won't let them wake up. Can you stay quiet while I do this?"

Charles groans as his cock springs from his underwear, thick and full into the callus of Erik's hand. The whimper that escapes his mouth echoes throughout the tiny compartment, and he freezes in Erik's hands. He can feel the thud of Charles' heart, the hot iron of his blood, filling his cock to straining as it twitches in the open air. Erik wishes he could risk the light that hangs above this bunk, to see him spread out and flushed. Pink and perfect against the gray drabness of all things Soviet. He runs his open palm across the tip. Wetness smears across it. 

 _< Don't>_ Charles thinks, even as his hips piston upwards. _< I can't keep quiet, Erik, not with you touching me like that>_

"So be loud," he murmurs. "Let them hear you. Wake up the whole train, go on." He closes his open palm into a loose fist and tugs. Charles lets out a strangled noise. His skin is sweaty and tastes of salt as Erik licks long lines up and down his neck. Though his own arousal clamors for attention, he chooses to ignore it. 

Neither of the humans have awoken. Moira's breath is soft and even; that of the second gunman deeper, slower. Erik's hand begins to move, the barest of touches up and down Charles' shaft. He's damp with arousal, breath coming in tiny huffs. Erik releases his hand to spit into his palm, before he resumes his monologue, and his touches. Breath hot against the shell of Charles' ear, he whispers, "If you don't want to let them hear, I could I gag you. Would you like that, Charles? For me to cover your mouth and let you scream into the darkness? Only for me, your little cries and moans. Is that what you want?" 

 _< Please, Erik>_ and now even his inner voice has gone thready and weak. _ <I can't, I can't>_ His cock pulses in Erik's hand as he thrusts into it, completely shameless now.  

"Look at that, Charles. Look at you, such a slut for me," Erik rasps in the dark, even though neither of them can see, "If they only knew what you let me do to you, and how much you love it --"

The quieter Erik's voice, the more Charles struggles to keep his own sighs and pleas inside. The pale moonlight reflects off his face for a moment, and Erik sees how he bites his lip in vain, and then, perhaps inspired by Erik's words, grabs his other hand and sucks two fingers into his mouth. Now it is Erik's turn to hiss with pleasure. Charles has lost the capacity to communicate in words, but pleasure rolls off of him in great waves. 

His voice is measured, filthy in Charles' ear, sending vibrations down his spine. "Imagine it's my cock," he instructs, catching on to exactly what will tip Charles over the edge. It helps to have his mouth full, occupied. "Pretend that I'm filling you up there too, because you can't get enough of my cock. Yes, yes," he rasps, pushing in and out of the slick circle of Charles' lips, his other hand a loose fist, moving slickly up and down his heated skin, "there it is, good boy."

Charles bites down on Erik's fingers, laving them with his tongue as he comes, shaking and silent. Hot pulses overflow Erik's fist and drip onto the sheet beneath them. Erik pulls his fingers out of Charles' mouth and replaces them with his lips. Their companions are still asleep, owing to either a gentle nudge from Charles, or because they are just that useless. Erik wagers it's the latter, and that they have hours to go before their arrival at dawn. He presses the hard bulge of his erection against Charles' leg.

 _< Now>_ Charles thinks, a vicious edge to the words, _< let's see how quiet you can be>_ 

**Author's Note:**

> For reference, a Russian sleeper car looks [something like this](http://www.sras.org/img/photo/russian_kupe_car.jpg)
> 
> My tumblr is [here.](http://pitcherplant.tumblr.com)


End file.
